


S.H.I.E.L.D.

by Mandergee



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, Mild Innuendo, Philinda AU Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 03:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3713158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandergee/pseuds/Mandergee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an alternate universe, Melinda May and Phil Coulson may have met under ENTIRELY different circumstances. When a group of co-workers lead her into S.H.I.E.L.D one night, Melinda has no idea what the evening has in store....</p>
            </blockquote>





	S.H.I.E.L.D.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ddagent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/gifts).



> So I'm dedicating this lovely piece to ddagent. I wanted to have it done sooner, but it just wasn't FLOWING as well as I'd hoped, so I've fought with it a bit. I hope you enjoy it and get a laugh! Happy birthday today, by the way. I've said it, but I thought this would make a lovely little gift!

     _I don’t go home with customers._ Phil Coulson could count on both hands...and all ten manicured toes...how many times a night he was forced to remind himself of the one rule he'd set the day he became a dancer. And every day was surprisingly challenging, although he hadn't quite suspected it would be as difficult as it was proving.

    _But tonight_ \- he grasped the pole tightly with both hands, swung around nimbly and cast a long, lingering gaze over the audience. The women who frequented S.H.I.E.L.D were so often lonely, single ladies with a zen for body oil and exposure...but there were, occasionally, women whose lives were written plainly on their face in their sad, longing stares into two dollar beer served in red solo cups. If S.H.I.E.L.D was one thing, it was casual, and he wondered not for the first time if the red cups were simply a leftover from sorority night...or the new 'regular serving-ware' he could expect going forward. Dick Furious hadn't earned his business license from spending money- if the worn carpeting in the dressing rooms wasn't already proof enough.

    _"You’re up, Secret Agent Man."_ The inner ear coms had been the _only_ expense he'd seen in some time, and as his signature song began to wind down, Coulson swung his leg around once again and left the audience with a sly, crooked smile before sauntering off with his suit jacket draped over one shoulder and pinstriped bikini underwear beginning to ride their way up the sweaty crack of his ass. It looked like the risk of breaking his rule was safe for another evening, and in the back of his mind he began to pour a glass of bourbon over cool, clinking ice cubes.

    _Maybe_ , he thought, _I could even catch a rerun of Get Smart tonight._

   ---

    "I've never done this before, Jemma."

    "That's why I paid for it, May." She'd come with coworkers and felt her cheeks burn at the thought of how they'd convinced her, waving fat rubber dildos in her face and gently chiding her about the months of celibacy precluding the 'intervention' they'd taken it upon themselves to instigate. "I promise you- it isn't _that_ bad."

    "So says the girl who only comes for the cheap drinks." Bobbi piped up from behind her own cheap beer, lips curving over the thin plastic edge before she swallowed another mouthful with a grimace. "I don't think I've ever seen you actually get a dance, Simmons. And besides, it was _your_ boyfriend who used to work here, so why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?"

    " _Bobbi_ ," It was true- before they'd insisted on dragging her along Bobbi and Jemma had frequented S.H.I.E.L.D with fists full of two-dollar bills and an eagerness that betrayed Jemma's typical vanilla demeanor. She'd met Leo Fitz at the bar, and within months the two had become inseparable. But when Jemma tried for menacing she rarely made it past the growl, and within seconds she was collapsing into laughter as Bobbi pressed a sloppy, open mouthed kiss against her lips.

    "You know how much I love you when you pretend to be outraged."

    " _Stop_ it!" The laughter fizzled into a series of hiccups, and she reached past Bobbi for the remainder of her friend's beer, tossing it back with a flip of her long brown hair. "This is _terrible_ , you know that."

    "Good thing we don't come here for the beer, then." Bobbi flagged down a server for another tray of beers, pushing one in May's direction before gesturing over her shoulder. "Hey- looks like your number's up, Melinda."

    "I still can't believe you-" He was cute, she decided, stopping herself mid-sentence as the man who approached opened his mouth hesitantly. Grey pinstriped suit, slightly gaudy tie with tiny eagles flying across a red, white and blue background. His haircut reminded her of an accountant, and May found herself idly wondering if he'd decided the accounting business wasn't really lucrative enough. _Is he even the guy?_ It seemed, in places like this, that the likelihood of it being a sad, lonely and possibly gay accountant was just as likely. But that left her wondering what a gay accountant would want with _her_.

    "Excuse me, ladies?" He had a soothing voice, she'd give him that. Anything that could allow her to close her eyes and pretend she wasn't letting a naked man gyrate on her lap would make the entire experience that much easier to handle. "I'm here for Melinda."

    "I'm Melinda." When their eyes met...his were calm, serene, and May started to rethink her earlier plan. _It might just be better to keep my eyes open with this one._ Staring into eyes that blue, dancing with amusement, wouldn't be the worst way to spend...twenty minutes? Thirty? She wasn't sure how long Jemma had paid for, but judging from the 'intervention' she assumed it was for as long as absolutely possible for them to monopolize a single dancer. "So...how does this work, exactly?"

    "We have a room- out back." He smiled, offered a hand. "I'm your 'secret agent.'"

    "Like James Bond?"

    "A little," And the reply was accompanied by a mischievous quirk of his right eyebrow, an action that, for whatever reason, had her mouth suddenly going dry. "So tell me, Secret Agent Man- can you tell me what S.H.I.E.L.D stands for, or if you tell me...will you have to kill me?"

    "Well, I wouldn't kill you until _after_ you get what you paid for," His smile was more attractive than she expected, and Melinda wondered if her knees would hold her up long enough to make it into the back room he'd mentioned. "Sexy, Hot, Intelligent Ladies Delight."

     "Really." The look on her face, she imagined, had to have been one he'd never seen before, if the laugh he released was any indication.

     "I know- leaves a bit to be desired. I think the owner just really wanted a reason to call the place 'Shield'."

    "I'll hand it to him- it definitely doesn't lack intrigue." She gestured at the crowd of women, currently waving handfuls of bills at the dark-skinned, stocky man who was in the process of peeling off a plaid shirt and tool belt beneath the bright stage lighting. "All right- lead on."

      _Lets get this over with_.

   ---

    Her 'secret agent', Melinda discovered, was deceptively agile when there wasn't a pole involved, and as his bare ass- which was surprisingly _tight_ \- hovered just inches from her lap she wondered if she'd ever again be able to watch James Bond without fast forwarding directly to the sex. The origin of his name had become apparent the moment _Secret Agent Man_ came flowing over the speakers, and she'd managed to keep a straight face well up until the point where his pants had lowered to remove tight Captain America bikini briefs.

    "So," He glanced over his right shoulder, smiled broadly as Melinda slowly drew her eyes back up to his face. _He can't blame me- I'm sure I'm not his first lap dance_. "I take it you've never been here before."

    "What makes you say that?"

    "Most women don't look as anxious as you did when I come up to their table." He turned, looped his hands around her neck and wriggled his hips again. "What made you come here tonight?"

    "Coercion," Melinda managed to squeak the word out, and felt her cheeks warming again at the sound of her voice. "What made you do this?"

    "Well," Is that his... her hands gripped the edge of the chair, but the pain in her fingers did nothing to keep her from feeling the flood of moisture between her thighs. _I won't be able to have the same accountant anymore, either_ _._ There'd be no way she could look at her H &R Block rep without picturing Bernard in the same compromising position her 'secret agent' was currently occupying. And I don't need that mental image. "My mother wanted me to become a concert violinist, but I broke my fingers in a printing press...printing the college newsletter, of all things, so I had to drop out of Julliard for other pursuits."

    "And this is what you decided on?" It was odd, having a matter-of-fact conversation about life choices with a man whose current position on her lap made her toes curl, and she tried her best to keep her eyes on his face as he changed positions yet again.

    "Not right off. I had some other options...they just didn't pan out." His eyes were a cool blue as they searched hers, and a moment later he spoke again. "What about you, Melinda?"

    "I'm sure it's the same story you hear from most of your...." She paused, searching for a word that would sound less insulting than many, and settling on what she thought was a fair compromise. "..patrons. Divorced after a painful marriage, _after_ I found out my husband was cheating on me...with another company. Turns out he'd married me to gain access to the accounting firm I worked for, and after a few months of digging he disappeared. I got a Dear John letter with my divorce papers not long after that."

    "Sounds..." It was his turn to pause, and finally he pulled away from her to settle back into a nearby chair. "like a terrible soap opera."

    "I can promise you it isn't." She smiled, wondered why it was that she suddenly missed the arms of a stranger around her neck as the scent of his skin clung to hers, and she was reminded of Old Spice combined with warm, cuddly puppies. "Do you have a dog..."

    "Phil." The Captain America shield on his briefs disappeared as he crossed his legs, hiding the bulge just behind the shining silver star, and all was done so casually that she couldn't help but chuckle. _Just another day at the office_."I do. How did you- the smell?"

    "You smell like puppies," Melinda admitted. "It's all right- I love the smell. Like corn chips and warm fur."

    "You're the first person to notice." He shifted, and grinned. "I always loved that smell. Gets me through the worst times- burying my face in Tahiti. She's a Yorkie, and the best choice I ever made for companionship."

    "You named your dog Tahiti?" She'd always been self conscious about her laugh, the way it would ring out uninhibited, but the broadening of Phil's already bright smile had her heart hammering in her chest. She couldn't hold back, and after a moment Phil joined in. "Favorite vacation spot?"

    "It's a magical place." He shifted again, slid the chair close enough for their knees to touch. "You know, your friend paid for a few hours. We can get back to business any time you want."

    "Don't worry," _A few hours?_ He wasn't what she'd expected, May reflected- feeling another flutter in her stomach as his fingers brushed softly against hers. Her expectations had been of a stereotype, someone whose mind was filled with little more than profit from gyrating his naked body in front of women. But she'd found someone who was caring, kind, and the idea of spending a few hours just talking to him was more appealing than she'd imagined.

    "There's no hurry," She replied, and was relieved when he laughed.

    "I'm sure you were expecting a guy with huge muscles and plenty of room in his thong for singles." Phil worked one finger gingerly behind the elastic waist of his briefs, and Melinda felt her cheeks flush at the glimpse of what was clearly drawing in the audiences. "I promise- Captain America is here for truth and justice, not dollar bills."

    "I'm sure we could find some room down there." I can't believe I just said that. "And speaking of justice, though- if you're willing, you can help me get some. I think I'd like to see Jemma sweat a little bit, if that's all right with you."

    "Happy to help," Phil chuckled, and as he leaned forward again he wove his fingers gently through hers.  "I know we met under some pretty odd circumstances...but after this is all over I'd like to take you out to dinner...if you're willing."

    "Do you try that line with all the girls?" She knew she hadn't offended him, the way his eyes danced with laughter, and Melinda found herself at ease with the thought that she could go out with a man she'd first met while he was taking his clothes off. _It isn't the worst setup for a first date._

    "I can honestly say that I don't- but you're the first woman I've danced for that I've ever wanted to ask."

    "Then it's a deal. But I think we should properly introduce ourselves first, at least. You know, last names and phone numbers." She offered out a hand, felt a shiver run down her spine as he reached out to weave strong fingers easily through hers. "Melinda May."

    "Phil Coulson." They shook, and when he met her eyes again she felt butterflies in her stomach, the once new sensation now oddly welcome...and intensifying as Phil wriggled his eyebrows suggestively with another grin. "Dancer of S.H.I.E.L.D."

 ---

    "How long _did_ you pay for, Jemma?" Bobbi was on her...fifth beer now, her friend calculated, and as the question was offered with a drunken hiccup  she realized with a shock that she hadn't been paying attention to the time. "Melinda hasn't come back yet...has she?"

    "No." The clock near the rear exit told her it had been almost three hours since the suit and tie had pulled their friend into one of the many back rooms, and she swallowed deeply as she thought about the per-hour rates S.H.I.E.L.D had imposed on private dances. _I hope he's worth it- she really needed to loosen up._ "I'm sure she'll be back soon."

    "If she isn't, I might have to book that guy after this. For a guy who was _clearly_ smaller than the big Mack we saw earlier...her guy sure has stamina," Bobbi hiccuped again, and laid her head upon a layer of moist, crumpled napkins on the table. "Wake me up when she gets back."

    "Sure." Another beer wouldn't break the bank, Jemma thought wearily, and waved a server over for another beer with a generous amount of foam. When May finally emerged...they could always make her drive them home.


End file.
